


the way to a man's heart

by inallmybitterness



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Canon Divergence, Fluff, Friendship, M/M, Nonbinary My Unit | Byleth, an alternative universe in which byleth brings the houses together somehow and everybody's friends, felix and lysithea already have an A support, felix and sylvain have an A support but no A+ yet, felix-centric, i have no idea when in the timeline this takes place im sorry, implied lysithea/edelgard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 21:01:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21815143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inallmybitterness/pseuds/inallmybitterness
Summary: Felix had certainly been hanging out a lot with Lysithea. What else could explain his idea of thanking Sylvain for all he'd done for him... by baking him a cake?Or: in which Felix learns a lesson in gratitude while coming to terms with his platonic feelings for his cake-loving friend and his romantic feelings for his childhood friend. Written for the 2019 FE3H Holiday Exchange!
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius & Lysithea von Ordelia, Sylvain Jose Gautier/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 3
Kudos: 47
Collections: FE3H Holiday Gift Exchange





	the way to a man's heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Serie11](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serie11/gifts).



> When I saw Serie11 liked Felix's relationship with Lysithea, my mind went straight to her saying they could exchange notes about cake in their supports. I imagine the two would bake together every once in a while, and as they grew closer, they'd open up and Felix would learn a lot about facing his feelings in a healthier way. He'd also help and support Lysithea a lot, in his own way. So I decided to take this idea, throw some Sylvix in, and run with it.
> 
> On another note, I had no idea how to describe the Noa fruit, so after extensive discussion on Twitter, I decided my rendition of it would be based on Australian finger limes. They're equally versatile and look super fun to cook with.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it!!

“You want some Noa fruit?” the Professor asked as they looked at the unusual pair of students in front of them, more surprised at the assembly than at their request. “Of the Northern or Western variety?”

Byleth had brought it upon themself to plant a few Noa trees as soon as they got their hands on some Northern and Western Fódlan seed selections. Having traveled all over the continent with Jeralt’s mercenary band, they had firsthand experience with regional variants of the fruit: those grown in the West tended to be used in savory dishes due to their peculiar peppery flavor, while the Northern ones’ mild citrus taste was often combined with berries in traditional Faerghus desserts. Both were delicious, and Byleth—despite having little gardening experience—figured it would be a disservice to students if they were not able to try them.

While dishes containing Noa fruit had become popular requests at the dining hall, it was unusual for students to handle them directly. It may have been because a large part of the student body hailed from the nobility, but most did not try to delve into the culinary arts unless they were directly asked to—let alone _experiment_ in the kitchen.

Neither was it usual for students of different houses to hang out much. Despite having to choose a house to teach, Byleth had been trying to work with other professors at the Academy to bring the houses together through more amicable activities than mock battles. Growing up a wandering mercenary was odd: your lack of permanent residence could either make you feel like you don’t belong anywhere, or as if each place you passed by held a little bit of you, fragments of home scattered across the continent. That is how Byleth felt, as if all of Fódlan somehow came together through each piece of their still heart they left wherever they went.

Finally seeing students fluctuate from one house to another—and what’s even better, students who decided to stay in different houses _engaging in friendly interaction_ —was a most pleasant surprise. The pair that now sought them was a perfect representation of it: the lone swordsman from the Blue Lions house, and one of the top students at the Academy, who originally hailed from the Leicester Alliance and had recently transferred to the Black Eagles. Despite both valuing discipline to the point they could isolate themselves, they had been training together as of late (no wonder Felix’s proficiency in Reason had improved considerably). The Professor was glad to see their relationship had extended beyond the training grounds.

“The Northern variety, please,” Lysithea clarified. “I recently tried some Faerghus pastries, as per Felix’s recommendation. They proved to be a superb introduction to sweets containing Noa fruit! I _must_ try and bake a cake with it.”

“Felix’s recommendation, huh,” Byleth mused. Felix was the last person from the Kingdom that the Professor would expect to recommend anything sweet. “I thought you disliked sweets.”

“And I do,” the young man nodded, impatiently shifting his weight from one foot to the other, betraying his attempt at a nonchalant tone. “But Lysithea wouldn’t stop pestering me about it. I just told her about whatever I used to see the others eating.”

“I wasn't _pestering_ you!” The girl protested. “After becoming acquainted with pastries from the Alliance and the Empire, I just wanted to know more about baking traditions in the Kingdom. For research purposes.” Lysithea turned her bright rosy eyes to the Professor, beaming with determination before her attention was suddenly diverted. “Now—Professor? Did I say something funny?”

Byleth quirked their head to the side in confusion. They noticed that Felix had gone still, his eyebrows raised just a little.

“People smile, Lysithea,” he said sarcastically. “Even the Professor.”

“O-of course they do!” Lysithea blushed at her companion in vexation. “I'm just saying it's unusual for them to smile like _that!_ Although… I guess I should apologize, Professor. I was just a little taken aback.”

Oh, so that was it.

Byleth may calculate each movement on the battlefield, but they were often unaware of their facial expressions (which, according to most people who bothered to point it out, were not exactly diverse). It was not the first time a student remarked on their spontaneous smile.

Their chest felt warm inside whenever that happened. It was odd, but pleasantly so.

“You have nothing to worry about, Lysithea. I’m just happy to see the two of you getting along,” they turned around, ignoring Felix’s low _hmph_ at their sentimental comment. “Come, now. Let’s go get your fruit.”

* * *

“Look at _these_!” Lysithea exclaimed, her hands reaching out for the basket filled with Noa fruit that Felix had just placed on the kitchen counter. The fruit was oblong in shape: about as long as her fingers, but twice as thick. The maroon skin was firm, but not hard. According to the professor, the darker the skin, the more likely the fruit was to be sweet. Its color reflected the difference between each variety of the fruit: dark and mildly sweet citrus up North, deep green and peppery in the West. Too bad they could not compare firsthand, as the Western fruit had apparently been harvested earlier that day.

Lysithea had never handled Noa fruit before, but if the Professor’s judgment was correct, that should be a mighty sweet haul. “I can't believe we were so lucky! The colors look absolutely _divine_.”

“It’s just fruit. Stop picking at it,” Felix admonished her, ignoring her comment about the colors. They all looked like a big, dark blur to him. The only thing Felix could think of when he looked at them was that they would have good camouflage skills, were they sentient. “We may have healed your cuts, but the area’s still swollen. You don’t want to get anything acidic around there.”

By then, Lysithea had grown used to Felix’s off-handed ways of displaying any form of affection. She was initially surprised at the fact he _showed he cared at all_ —the man she had originally met, who refused to acknowledge the importance of cake and seemed thornier than the Noa tree that victimized her hands, did not seem to care for anything much aside from his training. As time went on and Lysithea’s cakes awakened his taste buds and broadened his horizons, the two continued to bond, and comments complimenting or looking out for her were no longer so unusual.

“As much as I wish I could handle these, I suppose I can stand back and just guide you this time,” she conceded. “It's more meaningful if _you_ play a part in making it, after all.”

Felix diverted his eyes as he started removing the fruit from the basket to keep his hands busy. “Doesn’t matter. He won’t even know who made the cake, anyway.”

“Do you have any idea what a disservice that is, both to Sylvain and to yourself? And that’s not even mentioning the cake!”

“Cakes aren’t sentient,” he fought back, despite his earlier thought about sentient fruit. “Let’s just get on with this. We don’t have the whole day.”

“Right,” the girl begrudgingly nodded, shifting her focus to the thrilling exploration into Noa cake that awaited them. “We’re on a mission. I can get started on the dry ingredients while you handle the fruit. From what I’ve read, it seems the optimal way to extract its contents is by cutting it crosswise, then pressing until everything inside has been squeezed out.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to cut it lengthwise?” he proposed, opening a nearby drawer to pull out a kitchen knife. It was far too big and sharp for such small ingredients, but Felix liked it. Despite being mostly indifferent to cooking, all times he lent Lysithea a hand had helped him familiarize himself with a wide array of tools and procedures. He may be more keen on blades to be used on the battlefield, but he still acknowledged that knife in particular was a fine piece of work, and one that felt comfortable in his hand.

“You could do that, but it would be messier. You may lose some of the filling. And we cannot afford to let any ingredients go to waste!”

“I stand by your words,” he chopped the first fruit in half. Despite its minute size, the skin was thick enough to make quite the satisfying sound as the sharp knife cut through it. He picked half of the fruit, peeking inside to see a lime-like cross section, thin walls enveloping small, salmon-colored juice sacs. “Looks like a small lemon. If I squeeze it, won’t the juice pour out while the insides are crushed?”

“By the Goddess, you’re doubting me so much today!” Lysithea added a cup of flour to the bowl in front of her, resting the cup on the counter with a little too much force afterwards. She turned to Felix, pointing at the fruit with a wooden spoon. “Just start squeezing it _carefully_ from its closed end. You’ll see the vesicles inside will pop out in all of their juicy glory. Use a rolling pin if you must.”

“I’m not doubting you,” Felix rebuked as he cautiously squeezed the tip of the fruit. As Lysithea said, the insides immediately popped out, tiny crystal-like vesicles filled with Noa juice spilling onto the wooden cutting board. The citrus fragrance hit Felix’s nose immediately, bringing back memories of sharing a freshly-baked sweet bun trio with Sylvain and Ingrid. He took a deep breath, eyes closed, before proceeding. “I just don’t want to mess this up.”

The memory awakened by the vivid scent of the Noa fruit steeled Felix’s resolve. He had always felt like he was strangely indebted to Sylvain. Ever since they were children, Sylvain had been the one to stand by his side, the one he ran to when his life came crashing down, and the one his thoughts gravitated towards when he was not around. Even then, small as his gestures could be, it was as if he could always sense it when Felix needed his warm comfort.

Felix could not wrap his head around what on Earth made Sylvain stick by his side. What logic is there to an unchanging man who chooses to stand by someone like him? Someone who was to his past self as a stormy night is to a bright day?

He didn’t know, but he felt he needed to do _something_. He could have given Sylvain a weapon—a reminder of the oath they made together as children—but for some reason, it felt wrong. Not because Sylvain was so lax in his training, or because he didn’t appreciate quality smithwork as much as Felix himself. He couldn’t point out the exact reason why. It may have been because of Sylvain’s knowing smile when Felix gave him a bag of candy or a childish attempt at revisiting the odd comfort he felt sharing those pastries with his friends years prior, a small celebration of life rather than a sworn oath to death. Maybe Felix wanted to prove to Sylvain that he was not simply a soldier as he often made himself out to be—not a blade devoid of emotion—( _not all about death like the boar_ )—and that he wished Sylvain would, too, prove to him that he was not only a mindless skirt-chaser. Maybe he wanted Sylvain to keep being his safe haven when everything else around them was stained with blood.

All such hypotheses were supremely ridiculous, and Felix disliked each and every one of them.

It was not as if the reason truly mattered, of course. What did matter is that he was at the kitchen with someone he could call a friend, and they were going to bake a cake with Sylvain’s favorite fruit, and Felix would probably make up an excuse when the time came to give him the cake. Because despite their schemes to ensure his plans would come to fruition, he still felt foolish. _You saved me countless times, here’s cake in return_.

He would need to come up with a new excuse, however. You can only blame your displays of affection on infatuated village girls so many times.

“Surely you don’t,” Lysithea’s soft acknowledgment pulled Felix back before he could drown in his thoughts. He felt a surge of appreciation for her company. “Baking for someone special puts much more pressure on you, doesn’t it? You want to do your very best to convey your feelings to them. That is only part of the wonderful power of cake!”

“It’s not that deep,” Felix blurted out without thinking, ignoring the slight feeling that maybe, possibly, her words made some sort of sense. “It’s just food.”

“It’s not _just food_ , it’s cake! Considering you chose to bake this as a token of affection for your boyfriend, I thought you had finally started to see its value!”

“Do you ever shut up?” Felix reflexively stomped his foot on the ground, turning to the girl in annoyance. Her words had been enough to throw his heartbeat off track, and he was sure a pink undertone tinged his cheeks. He may not blush often, but it was painfully obvious when he did.

“Only when I wish to,” she retorted without missing a beat as she mixed the contents in the bowl without looking at Felix. “But my point stands. The sentimental value of making something with your own hands in unparalleled. You know... Back home, my parents would sometimes bring us pastries. They were delicious, surely, but my parents’ faces lit up even more when they tried the cakes I made. Even though I was still learning, and I'm positive some of those must have been dreadful. Seeing how happy they were in spite of my underdeveloped skills only pushed me to keep doing my best, until I could bake them something they would be truly delighted to try.”

Felix listened in silence as he kept cutting and squeezing fruit. He was glad she had shifted the focus of the conversation away from him and the man she had called his "boyfriend".

“Of course, not all cakes in the world could make up for everything my parents have gone through. The cakes aren’t even my primary way to show how much I care about them. That'd be the reason I fight. The reason I push myself so much. But must we only _fight_ for the people we care about? Must we only put our already feeble lives on the line? We don’t know what the next battle... what _tomorrow_ holds in store for us. So while we are still here, I believe we should find other ways to show we care without being constantly reminded of our impeding demise. That is why I bake for them and for my friends. It’s like a symbol of hope that we will, one day, be able to peacefully share cake together.”

Felix’s chest felt tight by the end of Lysithea’s speech. She had put into words the hypotheses he had just shunned regarding his behavior, his drive to make something for Sylvain that was in no way related to the battlefield. Having been raised as a warrior—as a shield—, thinking outside of battle proved troublesome for him. He had never had time or interest ( _or so he told himself_ ) to engage in romance of any kind, and back home, the only way to have his worth acknowledged was by marching into battle, sword in hand. Putting one’s life on the line was not only accepted, it was encouraged. If it happened to be lost, there was only praise.

An image fleeted by Felix’s mind: the thought of Glenn and all Rodrigue said about his death. All of the fights the boar claimed he’d get into, as if that vicious mindset guided his every move as a knight. The fact Felix was the only one to truly know his brother—the only one he bonded with over plans for the future and fantasy stories and any resolve beyond getting themselves killed.

For a brief, foolish moment, he wondered if things could’ve been different if opinions such as Lysithea’s were more common back in Faerghus. Could Glenn have lived if those around him focused more on celebrating his life, rather than romanticizing his death before it even happened?

He blinked, ashamed by the sting of tears that threatened to leak out.

It mattered not. Glenn was gone, and Felix would never know what could have been.

Sylvain, however, was still there. Reckless, but still there, as he’d always been.

Perhaps there was still time for Felix to embrace the idea that fighting wasn’t the only way to protect someone.

Neither Felix nor Lysithea spoke again for several minutes as they continued to prepare their cake, chopping and mixing ingredients in comfortable silence.

* * *

“When you said you had been perfecting your fire magic for baking-enhancing purposes,” Felix said as he looked at the tray in legitimate surprise after Lysithea cast a wind spell to help the cake cool down faster, “I still didn’t think you’d get it done this fast.”

“You still doubt me!” Lysithea admonished him, resisting the urge to hit him with her wooden spoon. “It is neither unusual, nor difficult to apply magic to cooking. I have been researching ways of speeding up the baking process for a while now.”

“So you don’t need to wait too long to eat your cakes?”

Lysithea blushed, diverting her gaze. “T-that may have played a part in it, yes. But it could also come in handy in other situations! For instance, we never know when somebody from your house may walk in here, so it is paramount that we get this done as soon as possible.”

“You know Mercedes is studying with Annette, Dedue's training with the boar, and Ashe is on cleaning duty at the library. Don’t think anybody else there would care enough to come here of their own volition.” Despite his initial hurry, Felix looked more relaxed now that their task was nearly done—clearly relaxed enough to point out Lysithea's own inconsistencies.

“You tell me that now, but weren't _you_ on a hurry to get this done as quickly as possible?” Her words were hurried, as if she couldn’t move on from the topic fast enough. She then turned to the freshly-baked cake in front of them. Its size seemed to be enough for three or four people to share, should each take one single serving. It had been baked in a rectangular tray, and its color was similar to the insides of the Noa fruit Felix had cut open, although with a golden brown tinge to it. Lysithea’s eyes lit up when she looked at it, and Felix noticed their color was not too different from the inside of the fruit. “Now, let’s just finish this off with some icing! Possibly garnish it with a little fruit on top, too. We need to think about what Sylvain would like...”

Felix sighed, bemused by how invested she was. Lysithea’s passion for sweet treats was nothing new to anyone who had ever been around her long enough to see her make eyes at trays of pastries or dining hall desserts, but her being excited about a request of _his_ , somehow, boggled his mind. Perhaps he was simply unused to being with someone who actually valued as little, seemingly meaningless things as a request to bake a cake.

Seemingly meaningless things that meant more to him than he’d ever admit.

“We should split the cake,” he suggested all of a sudden, startling his friend.

Lysithea’s eyes widened in borderline outrage, an expression he had seen a few times before, whenever he said anything that sounded ludicrous to her (which was, judging by how different their stances on some matters could be, somewhat frequent). He vaguely recalled their first few conversations: her surprise when he said he didn’t like cake, her astonishment when he didn’t seem to care that _she_ liked it so much, and how offended she looked when he said he had given the cake away to a child.

Come to think of it, after their conversation earlier that day, he believed he had a better understanding of her reaction back then. She may not have baked that cake particularly for him, but she did choose to give it to _him_. In her own way, she saw him as worthy, unlike the “undeserving child” who ended up taking it.

 _So I was a jerk. How surprising_.

Sylvain really wasn’t the only one Felix was indebted to.

“Am I imagining things?” A flabbergasted Lysithea asked. “You were the one who asked me to help you bake this _for Sylvain_ because you didn’t want to mess it up, and now you don’t even want to give him the whole thing?! I cannot believe you are actually going to lie to him about making this yourself, and want to buy my silence—“

“I don’t want your silence!” He _very consciously_ ignored her hypothesis about him lying to Sylvain. “I want to… thank you. For everything. I wouldn’t have been able to do this without you. And you looked so excited about it. You should take half of it and share it with Edelgard or something. It’s big enough for the four of us.”

“Felix…” she mumbled, pink eyes glistening with what may have been excitement or a passing hint of tears. Her lips slowly stretched into a smile whose sweetness certainly rivaled that of her pastries. “If that is the case… I accept your offer. Perhaps I should be the one to thank you, then.”

“No. With this, we’re even.”

 _Lies,_ he thought. _There’s no way this will make up for what you’ve done for me. But it’s all about the gratitude—the little things, right? Like you said, Lysithea._

“V-very well!” She clapped her hands together, and something inside Felix stirred as he thought he’d never seen her so radiant. Something called affection, probably. “Let us split the cake, and garnish them both! Not only for the sake of those we hold dear, but also as a celebration of our baking alliance!”

He felt a smile creep up his lips, and for the first time in a while, he did not try to suppress it. As he reached for the serrated knife they used to cut cakes (Felix was the unspoken, yet official knife-wielder in their “alliance”), he thought how unusual it was for him to feel that… light. All baggage that had been placed on him throughout his life weighed on him, constant reminders of all that was and all that could have been lurking at every corner, staining but not blocking his path towards a brighter future. Being with a friend who cared for him and showed him such unabashed emotion may sound simple—childish, even—but that simplicity certainly helped ease the burden and clear his path a little.

He cut the cake in half with precision. As he separated the two halves, the comforting scent he had grown to appreciate enveloped his senses. He inhaled, detecting the subtle, familiar hint of citrus in it.

“How exactly do you want to proceed with the icing?” he asked, trying to suppress his urge to cut a small piece to try it. “Just cover it all up? Embellish it on top?”

“Well, _I_ am going to coat it in buttercream with a bit of Noa fruit zest,” Lysithea explained as she carefully slid her side of the cake into a separate tray. “I'm considering some flower motifs, too. Edelgard is quite fond of those.”

The timid blush on her cheeks when she brought up the leader of the Black Eagles did not go unnoticed to Felix. He felt he had made the right choice by saying they should share their cake.

“However,” she continued, “while I can give you assistance, it may be better for _you_ to think of how to decorate Sylvain’s cake. You know him better, after all.”

“Knowing him doesn’t mean I know his cake preferences.” Felix knew how to appreciate good weapons and good music, but his understanding of any other art hardly went beyond the basics. “I haven't had many in Faerghus, and the few I’ve seen him eat were plain.”

“Really?” There it was again: Lysithea’s wide-eyed surprise, although in a much subtler form. “Well, did he seem to enjoy those plain cakes?”

“I guess.” _Damn, this is a bad idea._ “He tends to like his stuff simple and clean. I suppose.”

Lysithea held her hand to her chin. “Well, simple and clean can go a long way. I’ve had wonderful cakes that were rather plain, nothing but a little icing and fruit on top. Oh, maybe you could do that! A ring of icing, and the inner vesicles of Noa fruit carefully placed on top. Naked cakes may not be usually square, but I'm sure we can make it work!"

“Naked cakes?” He raised an eyebrow at the name, making a mental note _not_ to bring it up to Sylvain. Felix didn’t want to hear whatever foolish thing he’d certainly say about that. “What a strange name. Sounds like a good idea, though.”

“Oh, don’t forget to cut the cake into different layers and add some filling between them!” Lysithea reached for one of two nearby bowls, its contents creamy in both texture and color. She scooped out some of it and transferred it into the other container. “We can share the buttercream. Naked cakes _must_ have layers. Our cake is tall enough to allow for three of them.”

“I thought you said those were simple,” he mumbled, knife in hand once again. “Fine. But I need you to—“

They were interrupted by the kitchen doors swinging open, the sound freezing them in place. They had been there for a few hours now, but nobody had come in aside from the usual cooks and a few other employees at the monastery. No one that could possibly jeopardize their plans.

Which was not the case now, as a tall, red-headed figure with broad shoulders and a confident stride walked in, two baskets in hand.

“Felix! Lysithea!” Sylvain called out cheerfully, opening his arms as if he wanted to hug both of them, baskets and all. “Fancy seeing you guys here!”

 _I can’t say the same to you_ , Felix thought, trying to ignore the sudden increase in his heart rate.

“Sylvain,” Lysithea acknowledged him with apparent indifference. “What brings _you_ to the kitchen? Running errands for someone?”

“Nah. I actually wanted to try my hand at cooking,” he elaborated. “The dining hall may be filthy, but the food they serve there is better than anything I’ve had in Faerghus! Dedue’s been giving me some pointers, too. I’m eager to put them to the test. You know people like a man who can cook.”

A wink. Felix felt charmed and disgusted in equal parts.

“So you’re just honing your skirt-chasing skills,” his words jabbed at Sylvain as he spoke for the first time since he came into the kitchen. “How shocking.”

“Hello to you too, Felix,” Sylvain’s tone was as carefree as ever, seemingly unfazed by Felix’s prickliness. “When did I say I was doing this for 'skirt-chasing purposes'? I said _people_ like a man who can cook, not just girls.”

Felix was about to say _“so you’re chasing men now, too?”_ when he was interrupted by Lysithea.

“I don't have time to witness you two arguing,” she said, picking the tray with her piece of cake and the bowl with her share of buttercream, a spatula thrown in to help her coat the cake. “Sylvain, make whatever use you need of the kitchen. I will finish my cake elsewhere. And Felix?”

He looked at her inquisitively, and she stood on her tiptoes to whisper on his ear:

“ _Don’t hide_.”

He had no time to protest or inquire about her words, as she immediately bade them farewell and left, one of the monastery cooks helping her through the door.

Felix positively wanted to get up and leave as well.

“Whoa there,” Sylvain directed a teasing smile at Felix. “You two sure have been hanging out a lot lately, huh? And now you’re in the kitchen together… Baking cakes and whispering secrets… Could it be you finally decided to let some romance into your heart, Felix?” He winked once again. Such an infuriating habit.

“Shut the hell up,” he retorted, unable and unwilling to hide his annoyance. “Lysithea and I are friends. Some people can talk to a woman without wanting to get under her skirt, in case you didn’t know.”

“You wound me,” he gave a hollow chuckle, pointedly turning his face away as he finally placed the baskets on the counter. “I do have friends who are women, you know.”

“Yet you smother them all with flowery words.” He glanced at the baskets. “And now with food, apparently.”

“I told you, Felix. I’m not doing this for a woman. In fact…” An idea seemed to cross Sylvain’s mind, and he grabbed something inside one of the baskets. “Check this out.”

The ingredient he pulled out was foreign to Felix, but he recognized it all the same thanks to the Professor's explanation: an oblong object with a deep green exterior, similar to their Noa fruit in shape, but bigger in size. The Western variety.

“Hm.” Felix was too confused to think of anything to say.

“This is the Western Noa fruit,” Sylvain said, weighing the ingredient on his palm. “I picked some at the greenhouse this morning. Kept them with me while I checked out the town market for other ingredients. They use it a lot here in the monastery, you know. Especially in spicy meat dishes.”

Felix furrowed his brows.

“You like spicy meat dishes, don’t you?”

“What exactly are you trying to say?” he asked blankly, doing his utmost to hide how restless he felt. “Spit it out.”

“Always so delicate,” Sylvain put the ingredient back in the basket and turned to his friend, taking a step towards him. “I’m saying I wanted to cook for you.”

Felix felt like he shouldn’t be surprised, and especially, that he shouldn’t be _hopeful_ at Sylvain’s words. Hope may be an unusual feeling to him, but it was not completely foreign. He had felt it before: sometimes with Sylvain himself, when he felt hopeful that his friend would finally change his reckless ways—finally show him he was more than what he made himself out to be. And every time, he was afraid he would be sorely disappointed. Afraid nothing would change, and any moment he may have felt like he was worth changing for would turn out to be an illusion.

Strangely enough, Felix was aware Sylvain never made him a promise he couldn't keep. His disappointment stemmed mostly from the fact he still wanted _more_. Promising to train instead of gallivanting about once or twice was one thing; committing to changing his ways for good was another. Felix knew there was something bigger behind Sylvain's insatiable behavior, some reason he may be unaware of to some degree—impulses beyond his control, driving him to act as if nothing mattered—and yet, he craved more.

And every time Sylvain cared for him and made him a promise ( _as small as it could be_ ) and made him feel like he mattered enough to warrant such displays, he gave Felix hope.

Hope the change he longed to see was just a few steps closer.

“Why?” Was all he could say, his voice sharp as a blade.

“Do I need a reason to do something nice for you?” Sylvain smirked, trying to deflect the question.

“Yes,” Felix blurted out, his bubbling emotions keeping him from measuring his words. “Because you’re _always_ doing something for me. You’re always rushing in to back me up in battle, always keeping me company during meals. You even come and _train_ if I insist!” The steely firmness in his voice grew shakier at each word, and when he spoke his last, it was akin to a damaged blade: scraped, but still whole.

Sylvain waited a few seconds before replying. Felix could hear his heart resonating in his ears.

“Do I need a reason to do any of that?” The redhead answered without any attempts at hiding the softness in his voice. Sylvain hardly ever used that tone, and Felix himself could barely recall the last time he had heard it. His low, soft tone sounded far more sincere than his usual, empty cheer. “I just care about you, Felix. And I thought I could do something nicer for a change.”

“Did you even listen to me?!” Felix stomped his foot. “You already do too much, Sylvain. _Too damn much!_ How am I supposed to…”

To what?

_To make it up to you? To hate you? To resist?_

Part of him found those thoughts—those _feelings—_ to be foolish. Most of him, however, echoed Lysithea’s words in his mind.

 _Don’t hide_.

“I don't think I do that much," Sylvain replied pensively, as if deep in thought, before his tone got livelier again. "But now I'm curious. How are you supposed to do _what_ , Felix?"

Felix grunted, pointing to the cake behind him. He decided to do the same Sylvain had done: use food to get his point across.

“See this cake?” Felix’s question sounded almost like an accusation. Sylvain nodded, arching his eyebrows in confusion. “Lysithea helped me with it. It's for you.”

 _Don’t_ _hide, Felix_.

Sylvain’s face contorted into an expression of legitimate surprise. Of all angry, frustrated, sharp words Felix had ever thrown at him, the only thing to apparently shock him was his sincere display of affection. _Go figure._

“I have emotions, too,” Felix proceeded. “And I am thankful for what you do for me. I can’t understand why the hell you do it, why you’ve never gotten up and left when I was always... _like this_. But I wanted to do something to show,” he had to fight the urge to stop himself with nearly physical effort, “that I also care about you, Sylvain.”

Sylvain blushed.

Felix thought he was seeing things. He thought the emotions he had finally let out were somehow making him hallucinate. Maybe he was under some spell, which would also explain his behavior as of late.

As it turns out, he was neither hallucinating, nor under a spell. He could not sense any magic in the air, and his body felt perfectly normal aside from his still erratic heart. There was nothing off with him, but there must have been something with Sylvain, because his face now matched his hair.

Felix could not recall ever seeing him blush.

“W-was there something funny in that cake?” Sylvain asked after what felt like forever. “Did Lysithea hex you somehow?”

“For fuck’s sake,” Felix buried his face in his hands. Why must everybody react with such _disbelief_ whenever he showed any emotion that wasn’t anger? Why must everybody act as if he wasn’t a human being who also felt sadness, and loneliness, and grief and _love_? People told him not to hide, and yet that was the sort of response he received when he complied. _Damned if you do, damned if you don't._

The frustration was so intense he wanted to walk out without even glancing at the man in front of him. He did take a semi-conscious step towards the door when he was deterred by Sylvain’s gentle hold on his arm.

“Felix,” his brown eyes were intense with emotion as they stared straight into Felix’s, making him feel as if he couldn’t run even if he wanted to, “I’m sorry. I was kidding... kind of. I was surprised, that’s all. I never thought I’d hear that from you.”

Felix stared at him. He wanted to tell him to forget he had ever said anything. He wanted to insult him. He wanted to throw a tantrum like a whiny child, but he only stared at Sylvain instead, eyes as sharp as a blade.

“Even so,” Sylvain went on, unwavering, “I am happy. I’m really, _really_ happy that you told me that. And that you wanted to do something so nice for me, too.”

“It’s not even done yet,” was all Felix managed to say. Despite the freedom of opening his heart, he also felt vulnerable. Exposed. “We didn’t have time to add the finishing touches. You had to walk in and mess it up.”

Sylvain chuckled—a quieter, yet more sincere sound.

“I guess I did, huh,” the hand on Felix’s arm snaked down to his wrist, always gentle—far too gentle. “I gotta make up for that. What do you say I help you finish it? We can have it for dessert after I make my dish, too.”

That gentle touch on his wrist was annoying. So very annoying. For someone who constantly hit on girls with unsolicited comments, Sylvain was awfully respectful of Felix’s boundaries, some of which he kept up in spite of what he truly wished for.

 _Don't you_ dare _hide anymore, Felix._

He decided to, quite literally, take matters into his own hand as he intertwined his fingers with Sylvain’s in a tight grasp. He had never been fond of tiptoeing around his issues, but it was only now that he decided to actually embrace them. As if Lysithea's words, short and simple as they were, had given him the push he needed. Sylvain wasn't the only one who needed to change his ways, after all.

He looked into Sylvain’s eyes, and what he found there could only be described as adoration. Being the target of such emotions as soon as he put down his walls could have made him uncomfortable, but it didn’t. His position then was atypical, but not unwelcome.

“I’ll help with your dish, too. You'll need someone who can handle a knife properly."

Sylvain smiled, "I'm sure I will, Fe." 

**Author's Note:**

> Sylvain may have gotten a little carried away at the end. Felix was probably flustered, but we all know he was happy deep inside. These boys just have A Lot of emotion going for them. It's hard to navigate it sometimes, alright.
> 
> To Serie11: thank you so much for such detailed prompts! I hope I made them justice. These kids absolutely deserve some nice fluff every once in a while.  
> I also wish you some lovely holidays, and hope 2020 brings you lots of happiness and love 💖


End file.
